


just when you escape you have yourself to fear

by capanon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4138308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capanon/pseuds/capanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Natasha was intimately familiar with being the center of this particular circus back on day one. She knew from experience that, like herself, Maria Hill was not a woman to crack under pressure." In which Natasha has commitment issues, fights aliens, and still gets the girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just when you escape you have yourself to fear

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to tragiccinnamonroll on tumblr for the quick read through! This was written for the Natasha mini bang which was v fun :) Title taken from a Tori Amos song.

The courtroom was packed. The cynical side of Natasha - oh hell, who was she kidding? All of her was cynical! - was surprised the public could be bothered. It was the twelfth day of testimony. She'd been bored to tears midway through the first.

"The issue at hand," Senator Kelly was saying, "is not that these people exist. It's that they've shown us time and time again that they have no concern for normal people. We've all seen the damage. New Mexico, all over New York, now D.C! Where do we draw the line?"

"But all of those instances were in the defense of the public," Senator O'Reilly argued. He didn't look entirely convinced by his own words. Natasha would bet her life that Stark's fat pockets had swayed him to their side. Pity Kelly couldn't be so easily bought. 

Politics, she thought with disgust. I'll take assassination over this torture any day.

She crossed one leg over her knee, the pointed toe of her heels tapping the floor as she gently bobbed her foot. She'd opted for something subtle today: a demure black dress, standard black pumps, nude makeup. Nonthreatening. Vulnerable. She looked contrite and feminine - not at all like a woman who could break a man's neck with her thighs.

Steve was next to her. He'd donned a suit for the occasion and looked about as comfortable in it as he had his uniform the first time he'd put it on. 'Like a dancing monkey,' he'd told her. Now they all were, playing dumb and sorry for the big boys on Capitol Hill as though a charming smile could erase billions of dollars in damages.

"Agent Maria Hill to the stand."

Natasha sat up straighter. She hadn't seen Hill much after the battle of New York, a few run ins here and there, a mission debriefing on occasion. Since the clusterfuck that was Project Insight, Natasha hadn't seen Hill at all, in fact, and now there she was, a dark blue pantsuit that fit her figure perfectly. Natasha watched the way her trousers hugged her ass as she walked down the long aisle to the front of the courtroom, her hips swaying with just a hint of attitude. Natasha hoped she wasn't too obvious, but it had been a damn long while since she'd seen that ass up close.

The courtroom was silent. No one fidgeted, the only noise that cut through the reverent stillness was the shuttering of cameras and the clicking of recorders. No one would want to miss this. Natasha was intimately familiar with being the center of this particular circus back on day one. She knew from experience that, like herself, Maria Hill was not a woman to crack under pressure.

The prosecutor took to the stand. "State your name, rank, and involvement in Project Insight."

"Maria Hill, deputy director of SHIELD," she said. "I wasn't involved in Project Insight. I wasn't even made aware of it until the late Director Fury found it was a HYDRA operation in disguise."

A murmur rose up in the courtroom. So far, no one had mentioned HYDRA since Natasha. Steve hadn't been allowed to give a public testimony. He was still pissed about it, too, but he looked vindicated at Maria's casual reference to the supposedly destroyed Nazi branch organization.

"So you believe Hydra was behind Insight," the prosecutor said, "not SHIELD?"

"As I said," Maria replied, "Project Insight was a Hydra job. SHIELD had been compromised." She looked completely unfazed by her surroundings, her expression icy. The reporters were eating it up. 

The attorney stumbled over his next question, and Natasha allowed herself a smile. The rest of the cross examination went downhill, nerves catching up with the prosecution, the defense playing hardball with their missteps. Maria was the queen of the court, and when the the judge called the proceedings for the day, reporters swarmed Maria, desperate for a comment.

Across the crowded room, Maria looked away from the group surrounding her, her gaze sliding over the aisles - and stopped on Natasha. She held her stare for a moment, then flicked her eyes to the exit. Natasha felt heat stir low in her belly. She nodded, and Maria turned away to address the reporters.

"Damn," Steve groaned beside her as he stood. "I don't think I can handle another day of sitting for hours. This is killing me."

"They'll never let you take the stand," Natasha pointed out, gathering her purse and jacket from where she'd rested them over the edge of the pew. "You might as well get out of here. You've got something you'd rather be doing, right?"

Steve didn't say anything for a long moment. Then he nodded. "I--yeah. I've got someone who needs me," he said.

"Then go get him," Natasha said. "Your hot neighbor will still be there when you get back."

Steve rolled his eyes. "My babysitter, you mean."

"No, I'm serious. Sharon's great," Natasha said. "You and her--you've got more in common than you think." Let him figure the rest out for himself. "Anyway, go, get out of here. And keep me updated! You drop off the face of the Earth, Rogers, and I'll pull the Avengers together just to hunt your ass down."

He laughed. "Got it. Take care of yourself." He hugged her, tight and with great familiarity. She'd miss him while he was gone, but she knew he'd be back. Sooner or later, they'd all find each other again.

They parted ways from there. Maria was still stuck in the cluster of journalists, all painfully eager to get a word in with her, so she lingered in the lobby, ducking into a corner and projecting meekness, plainness. No one would look twice at her. She was a professional. Outed or not, Natasha would always be an agent, every fiber of her being hardwired for espionage. 

The lobby emptied out quickly. Natasha was mostly alone when the loud click of heels on the marble floor alerted her to Maria's presence. It was a courtesy, not silencing their steps. God knew they could both sneak with the best of them. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Maria's suit jacket was slung over her shoulder, her white button-up rolled at the arms and the buttons undone three down, exposing just a tease of the curves of her breasts. "Got any plans tonight?"

Natasha shrugged. "Nothing important. I could probably pencil you in." 

Maria's eyes traced down Natasha's body slowly, then up again. Her smile promised a whole lot of something if Natasha played along. "Think you could work in a beer at my place?"

"For you?" Natasha hooked her arm in Maria's. "I could probably manage."

It was like they'd stepped out of time, walked out of the courtroom and into the streets of several years back, a time when all they had was SHIELD and missions and frantic fucking when they could work each other in. It was casual and perfectly catered to Natasha's needs - and it was something she desperately wanted again. A sense of normalcy, an anchor in the choppy waters of their fucked up reality. Natasha had lost anonymity. She could no longer walk down the street as a normal civilian woman, not when every last detail of her painful past was up for grabs on the internet. She'd made that bed, and now she'd get to lay in it too.

But she wouldn't say no to a little piece of before, especially when it was wrapped in a package like Maria Hill.

Maria was staying a few blocks down at a five star hotel that was much too public for Natasha's liking. She knew the reason, knew being public was their best bet, but having all eyes on her made her skin crawl. This was attention she couldn't control, a situation with a consequence that she'd never wanted to confront. But none of that showed in her body language or on her face. To the passing person, she would like she was having the time of her life, at peace with the world and glowing happiness at the woman on her arm. Maria walked them into the elevator and pressed the CLOSE button quickly, shutting the doors in the face of a man in a business suit. 

"God," Maria said, leaning her back against the wall of the elevator. She jammed the FIVE button. "This trial feels like it's never going to end."

Natasha hummed her agreement. "You know the dance. We pretend we're cowed, they pretend they're satisfied, everyone makes nice. It'll be over soon."

"Not soon enough," Maria grumbled. "Damn Nick anyway for leaving us with this mess."

Natasha couldn't argue with that. While they shouldered SHIELD's fuck up, Nick Fury was living it up in Europe, establishing a base of operations and having a generally fabulous time being dead. Damn him for thinking of it first.

Maria's room was at the end of the hall, nearest the staircase. There was only one room sharing a wall with it, and she'd bought that suite as well. No sense in taking chances, not even now with Hydra exposed. "I've got beer," she said, "I think this is your brand, unless you've gone traitor on me. Vodka in the freezer, wine in the fridge." She waved a hand to the kitchenette. "Help yourself to anything you'd like."

Natasha looked at the refrigerator, then back at Maria. Liquor could wait. She sauntered up to her, dropping her hands to Maria's hips. "Anything I'd like?"

Maria met her gaze, dark eyes burning into her own. "Anything," she agreed. 

Thank the fucking heavens for that.

Their lips met halfway, molding together with a familiar ease that startled Natasha, heat washing over her and snaking into her veins, feeding into her core. It was like they'd never left off, had spent the last five years with Maria's hands in her hair and their tongues sliding together. God, how she had missed this. 

Her hands tore at Maria's trousers, at the buttons of her blouse. They stripped each other quickly, spurred on by a mutual desperation to feel skin on skin. Natasha walked Maria backward to the bed, got her on her back on top of the soft comforter and leaned down to tease her nipples with her teeth. Maria let her head fall back, groaning. "Nat..."

Natasha rolled her nipple between her teeth, using her hand to toy with the other. She was already wet just looking at Maria's body, squeezing her thighs together as she worked those glorious keening sounds out of Maria. "I can't remember being able to take our time before," she said, breathing the words against Maria's breast. She drew back, a grin curving her lips. 

"No," Maria said. Her breathing was strained. "I can't either. So let's not waste this." She bucked her hips.

"Not a problem," Natasha said, sliding down Maria's body, her mouth spreading a line of heat down her stomach. She tongued around Maria's navel before nuzzling into the juncture of her thigh next to the thatch of dark hair above her slit. "I could fuck you for hours."

She rubbed a finger down Maria's slit, spreading her open just enough to smear her slick. Natasha followed with her tongue, dipping it inside Maria, fucking her shallowly, a tease of what was to come.

"Fuck, Nat!" Maria's fingers dug into her hair, tugging on just the right side of painful "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Her voice pitched higher when Natasha laughed against her, sliding her tongue in deep and working her finger into Maria's cunt next to it, fucking into her in tandem. "Yes, just like that--"

Natasha leaned back, fucking a second finger into Maria. She closed her mouth over Maria's clit and sucked, stroking the sensitive bud with her tongue until Maria's back arched, her mouth open in a silent scream. Her cunt spasmed around Natasha's fingers. Natasha worked her through it, never easing up until Maria collapsed back onto the bed with a stuttering moan. "You always were good at that," Maria said dreamily. 

Natasha sucked her fingers clean then popped them out of her mouth. "I try," she said. She crawled up Maria's body until she was on her knees, caging Maria in at her waist. "Up for returning the favor?"

Maria licked her lips. "Climb on," she said. "Grab the headboard."

Like Natasha needed to be told twice. She straddled Maria's face until she could feel Maria's breath fanning against her cunt. She was wet already, close to the edge so fast the pleasure made her head spin. And Maria hadn't even touched her yet. She gripped the top of the headboard, her hands shaking with anticipation, and Maria grabbed the outside of her thighs, tilting her mouth up to kiss as Natasha's folds, lapping at the wet heat in a way that just wasn't enough. Natasha wanted Maria in her, fucking her with her mouth, her fingers, anything - she needed that feeling, what it was like to be filled with Maria, pressure and intensity chasing her over the edge. It had been far too long.

Maria's tongue stroked into her slowly, teasingly. Natasha squeezed the headboard so tight the wood creaked under her grip. She tried to rock her hips, but Maria held her steady, never letting her chase pleasure on her own. She drew back, flicking Natasha's clit with her tongue, never applying enough pressure for it to be anything but a tease. Natasha couldn't help the tiny frustrated sounds slipping past her clenched teeth. She'd never wanted anything this bad before, had never been so wet and aching for a single person, but somehow, Maria brought that out in her. 

"Good girl," Maria breathed, a wave of heat tickling at her, driving her mad. But just as Natasha opened her mouth to curse at her, Maria's tongue fucked into her, deep and fast, the suddenness of it forcing Natasha to drop her head against the headboard, her entire body shaking. Maria's mouth worked magic on her cunt. When her thumb slid over Natasha's clit, Natasha lost it, shaking and sobbing as she rode Maria's face her hips jerking in small restrained motions. She came like an explosion, without warning, too intense to handle. Natasha's vision went static white for a few beats, then her entire body slumped, melting. 

Maria slid out from under her and helped her down until they were both lying on their sides facing each other, kissing languidly. Natasha could taste herself on Maria's tongue.

"We've gotta do that more often," Maria murmured. Natasha could barely keep her eyes open. Sex relaxed her, especially sex with someone she trusted - and trust was not something she gave out easily. 

They curled in toward each other; the last thing Natasha saw before giving in to sleep was Maria's face, softened in sleep, her mouth curled in a smile of pure satisfaction.

***

Natasha woke up the next morning the moment Maria's breathing changed, but she was warm and comfortable. Maria didn't ask her to get up, just kissed her temple and whispered, "Be back soon," before disappearing into the bathroom. Natasha willed herself back to sleep and didn't open her eyes again until Maria sat on the edge of the bed. Sunlight spilled across the bed, and the scent of delicious food filled the room. "Morning," Maria said. She had a cup of coffee in her hand, pale from a great deal of cream. She handed it to Natasha, who sat up and took it gratefully.

"Morning," Natasha returned. "God, that smells good."

"Bacon," Maria agreed. "Lots and lots of bacon. I ordered in. Figured you wouldn't mind if I wasn't up for braving the masses already."

Natasha could read between the lines. She knew Maria worried about her, knew how Natasha felt about being so public. The intimacy of her concern left Natasha strangely shaken. She masked the moment by taking a long drink of the coffee. "Sounds good to me," she said when she was sure her voice wouldn't sound strained. "What time is it? We have to be at court--"

"At ten," Maria finished. "It's only just seven. We've got plenty of time."

Seven... When was the last time she slept so late? Or so well? An odd feeling settled in her stomach, heavy like a stone. She'd never been so comfortable. But it was unsettling. She couldn't put her finger on the reason why but something about the softness around Maria's eyes made her want to run.

She didn't. She wanted to, but Natasha wasn't a runner. She didn't bow to her emotions. Instead, she got dressed and sat down with Maria and ate breakfast and laughed and returned Maria's affectionate smiles -- they were a sitcom couple. This is not a mission, she reminded herself. I can have this. This isn't a mission.

Eight rolled around. "I guess we should get ready." Maria looked disappointed. "I can't believe they're dragging things out like this," she said as they cleared the small two person table and set the room service tray aside for pick up. "It feels like we'll never have a free moment."

"We aren't doing so bad at making time for ourselves," Natasha said. The look Maria gave her struck her in the chest like a physical blow. Maria looked - thrilled, that was the only word Natasha could think of to describe the look of pure warmth on her face. She looked like Natasha had just granted her her heart's desire. 

"We aren't, are we?" Maria set down the plate she'd been rinsing off. She reached over toward Natasha, hesitating for a moment before grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together. Natasha was struck dumb, something close to panic bubbling in her mind. "I--wanted to talk to you. Actually. About--about this."

"This?" Natasha echoed. Her mouth was dry, painfully so. 

"About--us." Maria stopped, swallowed. She looked like she was searching for the perfect words and coming up short. "SHIELD is gone. There's--there's no reason why we should have to settle for a quick fuck every few months, Nat. We could--try. Try something different."

Something different? Natasha could plainly see what she meant. Love. Affection. The game she'd so scorned as child's play. Maria wanted to give that to her. Natasha remembered the night before, her desperate scramble for something normal. Did she want that with Maria? Every day, waking up together. Sharing breakfast, smiles, a life. Did she want that? Could she want that anymore? 

"Maria," she said - and that was all she managed to get out before an explosion rocked the building. "Get your gear!" she shouted above the din of sirens and screams that followed the blast, but Maria was already off. Natasha darted to the entryway where she'd left her jacket, purse, and weapons. She strapped her guns and knives on and pulled her widow's bites out of her purse, charging them up for best efficiency. She slid on her heels and opened the door, Maria at her back in full battle gear.

Natasha's brain had gone battle ready in about two seconds flat. Maria's presence was no longer disquieting; she was a comrade now. And when they cleared the stairs, all five damn flights of them, and took position on either side of the exit door, Natasha was damn glad she had someone at her back.

Maria swore under her breath. "What the hell are those things?"

There were two of them in the lobby: tall bipedal creatures with deep purple skin. Their hair, if it could indeed be called that, looked more like feathers and cascaded down their backs like a unkempt mane. The weapons they held were unlike anything Natasha had seen, save perhaps Loki's scepter.

The scepter. These weren't just strange creatures. These were aliens - god damn aliens, attacking the same god damn city the majority of the Avengers were stationed in for a legal battle.

"So I'm thinking we should take Pepper up on her offer to find us a good PR person," Natasha said, keeping her voice low as she readied her widow's bites.

"Not even the best PR rep money could buy could pull our asses out of this mess." Maria cocked her gun, held it at the ready.

Outside, a scream. They took that as their signal and charged in. All hell broke loose.

The two aliens had been brutally picking their way through every person in the lobby. As Natasha shot out of the stairwell like a bullet, she saw the one on the right slash a man from sternum to stomach, blood spraying a stripe across the white tile floor. He didn't scream, just dropped like a rag doll and twitched on the ground. Natasha didn't hesitate; she slammed her fists into the creature's lower back and struck with him a voltage high enough to kill a man twice her size. It dropped, though she didn't stop to check if it was dead. Maria hadn't gotten so lucky. Her first shot had hit what must have been some kind of protective energy shield and lost her the element of surprise. She was fighting off the jabs of its spear with her guns, her eyes narrowed. An opening was all she needed. Natasha could help her with that.

She grabbed the spear from the immobilized one and ran her hand over it, searching for any sort of trigger mechanism. Nothing. Guess she'd have to do it the old fashioned way. She charged at the two of them, sliding her way neatly between them and impaling it in the abdomen. The alien shuddered but did not fall. The momentary pause was enough for Maria. She put two bullets in the alien's head and watched it crumple.

Maria wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, blood smearing. It must have gotten a hit on her. "You good?" Natasha asked.

Nodding, Maria checked her gun clips. "Their physiology seems similar enough to ours. Kill shots on us are kill shots on them." But the general shape of the creatures was where the similarities ended. They had no discernible gender. They wore no clothes, the deep purple of their skin looking more like scales up close. They bled black, an oozy gel-like substance that stuck like tar when Natasha accidentally stepped in it.

"I need to get to my hotel. All of my gear is there. I have a rifle we could use to take them out long-range if there are too many of them to take on." Natasha checked the pocket she'd sewn into the inner lining of her dress. Her hotel card key was still there. She didn't need it, of course, but taking the time to break in while something was trying to kill her would be more of a pain in the ass than she needed to deal with.

"We need to see the extent of this first. If we're lucky, it's an isolated incident." Maria tapped the communication device in her ear and spoke a rapid fire series of numbers. "Stark, location?" She paused, listening to Tony on the other end of the line. "Yeah, here too. Doesn't look good. We have at least fifteen casualties in sight right now." Another pause. "Got it. ETA five minutes." She tapped her ear, closing the line. "We're meeting him at the courthouse. He was staying in the hotel across from yours. Said both buildings were overrun. Yours was completely destroyed."

Of course. Of fucking course her hotel was destroyed. Why did she even bother owning her own things anymore? "Got it. Let's get going." Fighting in heels and a thigh-length dress it was. Not the worst situation she'd ever been in, sure, but definitely not the best. 

At least she had basic weaponry this time. 

The streets were empty, eerily so. Natasha could see faces peering out from the shop window they passed, people hiding and looking desperately for someone to save them. The Avengers would be a welcome sight up until the bill for damages was served. 

She hoped Steve made it out all right. No doubt he left straight away after court ended the day before, but she also wouldn't put it past him to linger out of guilt. Steve was not a man who took leaving his friends behind lightly. Natasha knew no amount of guilt over leaving Natasha and the other Avengers would keep Steve in DC, though, not when he had decades of guilt on his shoulders bearing the name James Buchanan Barnes. Too bad. She had a feeling they could use him right about now.

Iron Man was at the foot of the courthouse stairs, striking a dramatic figure. There were still no creatures in sight, just empty streets and sidewalks littered with the occasional human casualty. The aliens must have struck fast and hard and retreated just as suddenly. What they'd been doing there in the first place was beyond Natasha. What drove them away, even more so.

"Stark," Maria greeted Tony with a sharp nod. "News?"

Iron Man lifted his faceplate, revealing a sweaty Tony Stark. "They were everywhere. Like fleas, I swear it, one minute nothing, then bam! Purple people as far as the eye could see. By the time I got in my suit they'd made quick work of the people around me. Then just," he waved around the area, "disappeared. Like--teleportation or something."

If they did have the capability of teleportation, that was a definite strike against humanity. How could they protect people against a race that could appear and disappear, anywhere and anytime, at will? "One on one, we can handle them," Natasha said. "Any idea what spooked them? They were doing a pretty good job of it from what I've seen. No reason to abandon ship."

"As far as we can see," Tony agreed.

"It's a trap," Maria said. "Maybe we're the targets. They're pretending to draw back to lure us out."

"That would imply an entire alien race has heard of us and wants us dead," Tony pointed out. "FYI, not the kind of notoriety I like!" He looked like he had something else to say, bit his mouth snapped shut. "Hold that thought," he said and flipped his faceplate down. "We've got incoming."

Maria moved back to back with Natasha. "From where?"

"Everywhere," Tony said grimly. 

He wasn't exaggerating. The air around them seemed to waver and then went still, followed a split second later by a deafening shrill sound like something tearing. There had been two of the aliens before; now there hundreds, appearing before them in the blink of an eye.

"Right," Maria said, voice tight. "Let's get this over with."

Iron Man took to the air, blasting large groups of them. He was trying to keep them from over taking Natasha and Maria, but there was only so much he could do. Natasha dove into battle, Maria at her back. They fought to kill, no hesitation. When Maria ran out of bullets, she used her handguns as blunt weapons. But there were just so many of them; every time one of them fell, another three seemed to rise in it their place. The aliens were overrunning them.

Something felt off about it, though. Natasha moved fluidly, cutting down opponent after opponent, but it occurred to her as she heard Maria take a hit to her shoulder with the bladed end of a spear that none of the aliens had so much as brushed against her. It was almost like they were passing around her, deliberately targeting Maria and Iron Man. But that was ridiculous... wasn't it?

Maria cried out as she was sent flying from an energy blast, her body hitting the pavement and rolling before falling still. Natasha immediately moved to help her but the attention of every last one of the swarm turned on her simultaneously. There was a beat where it seemed like no one moved, not a sound was made - and then, all at once, they came at her, grabbing at her arms, laying their hands on her back and head and shoulders reverently. Theirs was not a touch to injure; it was gentle. But there were so many of them, coming at her all at once. Natasha couldn't fight them all off. She was knocked to her knees as they crowded around her, chanting in a strange tongue. This is it, she realized as they overtook her. This was how she died.

But then a strong grip seized her outstretched arm and wrenched her out of the crowd. Her arm dislocated as Iron Man took flight, but she was alive. Pain was bearable.

Maria was under his other arm, her eyes closed and face slack. "She's alive," Tony said, apparently seeing something in her expression. "Banged up, but I'd put money on her having worse." She couldn't answer with the wind tearing across her face, but she didn't need to. Hearing the words was enough. Maria was alive; they were all alive. But it was at the cost of failure. They'd had to fall back, abandon the city. Never mind that they were only three people. Natasha knew if they survived this, if they succeeded in the long run, the world would never let them forget the people they'd let down.

***

Maria was out for about two hours. Tony had JARVIS scan her, but she seemed fine, maybe a mild concussion. Mostly Maria was angry. "It was am amateur mistake," she said, berating herself. "I left you wide open--"

"They weren't exactly aiming to kill me," Natasha said, cutting her of before she could really get going. But it wasn't just a distraction. She felt it, the lack of killing intent. She and Tony went over the footage of the fight, watched the news anchors rant over the Avengers' terrible failure. The aliens would have ripped Maria and Tony apart if they could have; all they seemed to want to do to Natasha was pet her to death.

"So you're what they're after." Maria said it slowly, her nose wrinkling as if the words left a bad taste in her mouth. "No. That can't be right. Why would an entire race attack Earth just for you?" She lowered his face, looking up at Natasha through long dark lashes. "Not that I can't understand the appeal."

Natasha felt herself heat up at the comment, her stomach twisting. Maria wanted her bad. The painkillers Tony had given Maria weren't letting her brain filter her words. Their interrupted conversation floated through Natasha's thoughts uninvited, an unfamiliar anxiety spiking in its wake. She couldn't do this. Not right now.

"None of it makes sense," she said, all business. "If I was the reason they were here, what are they expecting? Not to kill me. They could have done that. And I don't have any political sway here - no sway at all anymore. There isn't anyone they could use me to get to." No one worth having if the end goal was world conquer. "It's moot point anyway. We can't be sure of what they want unless we can get one of them to speak to us." And given the distinct lack of recognizable human language in their last run in, Natasha didn't see how that would be possible.

"Doesn't matter anymore," Tony announced as he walked into the room. They'd commandeered an office at Stark Industry's DC office to fix Maria up. Tony put his tablet on the desk and slid it over to Natasha. "You're big news now." He had it set on the Times, an article titled BLACK WIDOW STARTS WAR.

Maria looked at it and grimace. "Fuck," she said which, yeah, summed it up pretty well.

"This is because of the footage from the fight," Natasha guessed. "They figured the same thing we did." Her stomach bottomed out, fear and anger and confusion knotting up inside her and burning her raw. She knew logically she'd done nothing to instigate the attack. But at the same time, she'd seen those people die and hadn't been able to stop it. It was the same kind of helplessness she'd felt on the helicarrier when the Hulk went after her and when they were fighting the Chitauri in New York. She felt small and powerless, set up to lose in a game with players far larger than she could ever imagine. It wasn't a feeling she enjoyed.

"It's only a matter of time before the government takes an official stance on this," Tony pointed out. "I talked to Pepper. She's seeing what she can fix for us on the legal end, but we need to be prepared. For the aliens and for good ol' humanity to stab us in the back." He shrugged. "Like usual."

Natasha wished she could toss around flippancy like Tony and actually mean it. She could paint her face any color she wanted, but that wouldn't change what she was on the inside: weighted down by a burden she hadn't asked for, scared, and above all else angry. She'd only ever wanted to help, to make up for the things she'd done in the Red Room, but it seemed like every time she tried to do good resulted in another failure. Another mark against her humanity. She knew how this story ended. They all did, whether they admitted it or not.

When she looked at Maria, Natasha could see her resolve in the set of her jaw and the hard line of her mouth. "This is bullshit."

"It is what is." Natasha didn't want to argue it.

Maria whirled around to face her. "You're not going to take this," she said, a command rather than a question. "You haven't done a damn thing wrong, Nat. These people," she gestured toward the tablet and that damning headline, "just want someone to point the finger at. You know that. Fury knew it, too. He wouldn't--"

"It doesn't matter what Nick would do," Natasha said slowly, "because he isn't here. He chose to play dead. Maria, we're on our own here, and if this is because of me, for whatever ungodly reason, I can't just say I don't feel like being an Avenger today. We do what we have to."

"We don't even know for sure!" Maria bit out, gesticulating wildly and wincing when the sudden movements pulled at her injuries. Her cheek was starting to swell from an earlier hit, and she was heavily favoring her right side, keeping her other arm curled in toward her body. She looked banged up as hell but there was no doubting the fact that she'd throw herself right back into the fray if those aliens showed up right now.

"She's right," Tony said, breaking through the tension. "We have no idea what those guys want. But luckily," he held up his phone, "I do."

"Do you." Natasha gave him a flat look.

Tony grinned. "And so do you!"

Then it clicked. "Thor," Natasha said. Of course! His Allspeak was exactly what they needed. And it was possible that the Asgardians had some political clout with whatever race the aliens were. Maybe even enough to make them back off Earth permanently. Hope welled in Natasha. She wondered if that wouldn't hurt her in the long run if things went south.

"I've got Doctor Jane Foster on speed dial," Tony said. "If she can get a message to him, I bet the big guy will come. So let's do it. We'll round up the gang, fight the good fight, have a drink afterward. Do the superhero thing." He held the phone to his ear and walked out of the office. "Jane? It's Tony...." His voice trailed down the hall, ringing with renewed hope.

"He's right, Nat," Maria said, curling her fingers around Natasha's wrists. "We'll find out what's really going on. And when we do, even if it they really are here for you, we'll fight for you." She held Natasha's gaze, her eyes intense. "I'll fight for you." Natasha could tell she meant every word of it.

The truth had never been so terrifying.

***

It was amazing how much could go wrong in a day. From the moment the news shifted from anxious doomsday reports on an alien invasion to Black Widow being the source of all that was wrong in the world, Natasha felt increasingly weighted down by the role thrust upon her. She was not the hero, not the villain. As Black Widow, she'd moved in the shadows, toppling governments and killing dangerous individuals with a deft hand. Anonymity was her greatest weapon, one she'd cast aside for the greater good. Seeing her face plaster across every news channel felt almost like a betrayal. Like everyone she'd ever helped had taken her sacrifice in hand and spit on it. Shame and anger lapped at her mind in waves, a crack right down the middle of her. It was a petty feeling she wanted nothing to do with.

Pepper instructed her - all of them, really - to ignore it. Speaking out would only serve to increase public backlash, especially after such a devastating attack. All they could do was sit back and wait for one of two things: another attack or an official summons.

"They won't bother with a summons, though," Pepper assured them over the phone. "They'll want you to take care of the threat before they try to convict you of anything." She sounded as frustrated as all of them appeared to feel. Sitting on their hands was not something the Avengers excelled at.

They slept in shifts, monitoring the news and JARVIS' scans for anything significant. Natasha took refuge in a third floor break room. She drank coffee out of a huge mug with the SI logo on it and stared at the wall. Maria was on watch. Natasha knew she ought to sleep, but rest was the last thing on her mind. No, what she needed was a distraction--

Her phone rang, the shrill note cutting through her thoughts. It was Steve.

"Are you all right?" 

"What, no hell?" Natasha asked.

"What's going on over there? I was on a plane," he was careful not to say where to, "and when I landed, your face was everywhere. Is anyone hurt?" 

Natasha felt a rush of warmth for her friend. Steve never questioned once whether the news was true. He was one of the few who truly had her back. "Not anything major. The usual. We're laying low right now until he can get better intel." Or better backup. Natasha refused to let the words we need you, come home, leave her mouth. What Steve was doing was important. They could use him, but she didn't know for certain they needed him.

"Do you need us back?" Us? Sam, probably. And trust Steve to cut right to the heart of the matter.

Yes, she wanted to say. We need you. We're hurting. But-- "I don't know," was all she could allow. "I'll keep you updated."

"Do that," Steve said. He didn't sound convinced. All she had to do was say the word, and he'd come running. But if she called Steve back she wouldn't be able to stop herself. She'd want Clint back, too, would drag him out of the safe house he'd holed himself up in to recuperate from what Loki had done to him. She'd promised not to drag him bag in until she was ready. She couldn't break now. 

"Take care, Rogers," she said, voice quiet and serious. "Both of you,"

"Worry about yourself," Steve replied. Then the line went dead.

Worry about herself? It felt like she wasn't doing anything but worry. She spent every second waiting for the sky to fall. The aliens would attack again. The government would come knocking for her. The tiny thread she'd pulled when she'd put herself out there and exposed SHIELD was unwinding faster and faster, creating a mess she knew she'd never be able to unravel. The deeper people went, the worse it would get. Even if they all survived this attack, even if the court ruled in their favor, there would be another attack. More rulings. More public debates on whether she should pay for her crimes against the United States. Questions about whether she could be trusted not to take off after the highest bidder and become the enemy.

She would never be accepted, not really.

Natasha rubbed at her wrist, feeling Maria's grip there like it had been branded on. She could so easily recall the fire in Maria's eyes when she'd promised to fight for Natasha. The implication that she would never let Natasha down or betray her was too strong to ignore. Natasha's career was built on self-reliance. People were not to be trusted. Even with SHIELD, she hadn't been able to let anyone under her skin. Clint came the closest, the two of them sharing the innate understanding that the world was a cold place. They were like sibling, twins in spirit. Even Steve was only allowed so close.

But Maria was... different. She pushed close whether Natasha was ready for it or not. She wound herself into Natasha's life like a vine, falling seamlessly into step with her no matter the years they'd spent apart. Had she always wanted to be so close? Natasha couldn't imagine. She didn't let herself think about possibilities. To dwell on attachments was to foster weakness. 

Isolation. It was a hard way to live, but, as she'd told Steve, it was also a great way not to die.

Natasha drained the last of the coffee and scrounged through the cabinets for food. She found a few packs of crackers and grabbed them all before heading back to their temporary war room. Maria was still there, staring unblinkingly at the computer. Natasha tossed her a pack. "Hungry?"

Maria caught it without looking. "Not really," she said. But she opened the package and popped a cracker into her mouth anyway. "What's Stark up to?"

"No idea. I haven't seen him since last night." He'd been on the phone with Jane Foster, she was fairly certain. There was a lot of scientific jargon flying around. "Need him?"

Maria shook her head. "Just hoping for some good news."

"We're not under attack," Natasha pointed out. "That's good news."

"Don't say it!" Maria hissed. She had a wild look in her eyes. "That's like begging someone to attack us!"

Natasha raised and eyebrow. "I didn't realize you were superstitious."

Maria slumped in the office chair. "I'm not," she admitted. "I think I'm just getting cabin fever. God, I'd give anything to have something productive to do that doesn't involve watching this bullshit." She jerked her chin toward the computer screen. "It's same thing over and over. They haven't gotten any new information so they're just beating a dead horse." She laughed. It was an unpleasant sound, hard edged and bitter. "This isn't the way I was hoping the world would come to see you."

Shrugging, Natasha summoned the will to smile. "It wasn't something I'd ever given thought to, so at least I can't say I'm disappointed."

Maria opened her mouth to say something but apparently thought better of it, her jaw clicking closed and her eyes falling to the desktop. Natasha wasn't sure which she'd rather have at this point: Maria's honest opinion or her silence. 

"I'm going to try to get some sleep," Natasha said, if only to fill the silence. She needed out of that room. She caught a glimpse of a picture of her on the computer screen, flickering out of view and replaced by a stern faced news anchor with a receding hairline. "I'll check in with you later." She turned on her heel and left, pretending she didn't catch the bare look of longing that crossed over Maria's face.

***

Bruce Banner arrived the next morning in khakis and a purple turtleneck, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. Tony let him into the building and frogmarched him into the war room. Natasha could hear him gibbering on about Stark Industry's R&D department. Apparently Banner had never left New York which was somewhat of a shock. After Loki, SHIELD lost Banner's tracks.

Guess she knew who was playing Big Brother.

"I called in the big guns," Tony announced by way of introduction. Banner stood sheepishly in the doorway. There was an air of embarrassment lingering around him like he was barely stopping himself from apologizing. For what, Natasha couldn't say. Being in the room with them? Breathing their air? Existing? His self esteem had not increased during his time as Tony's live-in science spouse, it seemed.

"Good to see you, Doctor," Natasha said.

"Wish I could say the same, given the circumstances," he muttered. He dropped his bag next to the door and came around the desk to look at the news feed over Natasha's shoulder. She'd relieved Maria around three in the morning after finally finding it in herself to stomach the vitriol the world at large was spewing at her. Maria was sleeping it off on the break room floor. "Still the same stuff, then." Banner didn't look surprised.

"It's not going to change unless something gives them a better angle," Natasha pointed out. 

"Jane sent a message through the bifrost early yesterday, so with any luck, Thor should be dropping in soon." Tony crossed his fingers. "And JARVIS hasn't seen anything worth mentioning. Hell, maybe the aliens decided to screw back off into space."

Natasha wasn't holding her breath. "It's been about three days since the attack. If they don't move soon--" She paused. Then what? Life goes on as usual? It made no sense, not a damn bit of sense. 

"Maybe they mistook you for a death omen," Banner said. He was smiling a bit, but somehow, Natasha didn't think he was joking.

"Are we that lucky? I don't think we're that lucky." Tony shook his head. "Let's place bets."

"Let's not," Banner suggested. He was still smiling, though, apparently immune to Tony's reaction to imminent doom.

Natasha looked back at the computer screen and willed it to show something else. She'd rather watch stocks. "Any news from Pepper?" she asked Tony.

"No, just the same old, same old. Don't move and don't say anything. She's a pro at this stuff, though, keeping people in line. I say we keep listening her." As if they had a decent alternative. Pepper was trustworthy; Natasha would give her that. But she doubted Pepper's PR knowledge extended to 'accidentally caused aliens to attack'.

"Pepper knows best," Natasha said. And hell, she even believed it. Pepper was the best they had in a difficult situation. Turning down help wasn't going to do her any good.

Maria emerged from the break room in the mid-afternoon looking more tired than she had when she'd gone to sleep nearly twelve hours before. She'd shed the top half of her combat suit in favor of a tight white tank-top, and her hair was knotted loosely on top of her head. The swelling in her cheek had finally gone down, but a dark bruise was left in its place, an ugly greenish-yellow at the edges. She didn't seem surprised to see Banner.

"Thor?" she asked. No greetings. 

Natasha shook her head. "No. And no word yet either. We're stuck in limbo here."

Maria looked grim. "Anyone heard from Rogers?"

"He's out of range," was all Natasha had to say on the matter.

"Maria," Banner greeted her, surprisingly casual. Natasha had to remind herself that Maria was working with Stark Industries now. If that was where Banner was holing up for the last year or so, they'd probably gotten used to each other. Banner had definitely lost whatever sense of distrust he'd had for Maria as SHIELD agent. They weren't friends, but then again, Natasha wasn't sure Banner had any friends outside of Tony who latched onto him and refused to let go.

"If there's another attack, the Hulk will give us an advantage. It's good to have you here, Doctor." Maria maintained a careful distance between Banner and herself. Tony had dragged a folding table in from somewhere, and he and Banner were running a card game. After the first three rounds, Natasha had been summarily barred from participating on grounds that she was either psychic or the world's best cheat. Maria opted for stealing the chair meant for Natasha and dragging it over by the computer desk. "How are you holding up?"

"The same way I always do in a mission." If she was going to have an emotional reaction to all this, it wouldn't be until the conflict was over. Once the dust settled, she could lock herself in her room for days on end and it wouldn't be anyone's business but her own.

All of them in one room was suffocating. Natasha begged off after half an hour of listening to Tony try to convince Banner he wasn't card counting. She needed some air. A shower, a real meal, new clothes - she wanted them but could do without. A moment of peace wasn't something she would forgo if she had the option.

The building they'd taken shelter in wasn't the main SI property in DC but rather a secondary location. There weren't any labs or research areas. There were only four floors, most of which were offices. The second floor was a call center. According to Tony, it was government use only. Natasha tried to imagine military officials calling to complain about faulty weaponry and smiled.

The building was emptied during the attack, so Natasha jumped down all three flights of stairs and landed nimbly on the balls of her feet. She didn't have to worry about civilians watching her or maintaining a public persona. It was a nice feeling. Nicer still was walking through the first floor, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the floor. Natasha found her bit of peace sitting on a bench just out of view of the main lobby. She could see outside the large wall of windows facing the street, but anyone who happened by wouldn't be able to see her, just the dark empty lobby. Given the evacuation order that was still in place, Natasha didn't anticipate seeing anyone which was why seeing Steve Rogers walk in the door shocked her so badly.

"Easy," Steve said, both hands up. "I gotta admit, this isn't the welcome I was expecting."

Natasha lowered her gun. She hadn't realized she'd raised it, her body reacting to a perceive threat of its own accord. "You aren't supposed to be here," she accused.

Steve shrugged, unrepentant, spreading his arms wide. "I don't leave friends," he said. "Bucky--he'd understand."

What could she say to that? Natasha shook her head but couldn't keep the grin off her face or the laugh out of her voice. "You're a contrary sonofabitch, Rogers."

"And you're not the first person to say so," he replied, mock serious. He nudged her shoulder as he walked by. "So where's everybody at?"

"Third floor," she said. "Where's Sam?"

"I left him outside city limits," Steve said. "He's keeping his eyes open for us. If another attack hits, he's in place to help."

"He could have done that from here," Natasha said.

"I had a feeling," Steve said. "And when I get gut feelings I tend not to ignore them."

Almost everyone was there, Natasha realized. She'd bet money that if Clint was under complete radio silence, he'd have shown up the moment he realized what was going on, but she wouldn't budge on that one. Steve came of his own accord. 

She expected to push Steve into the room and feel the atmosphere in the room shift immediately for the better, but when she followed him inside, all she saw were stony expressions. Steve was staring at the computer screen, frozen in place.

While she was gone, someone had turned up the volume. Natasha could hear the anchor perfectly: "...the President has declare martial law in the DC area and called for a complete blockade of the city. The criminal Natalia Romanova, known by the general public as her alias Black Widow, has been declared a war criminal. The national guard has been dispatched to the city. We haven't received word yet if they're going in anticipation of another attack or to bring Romanova in..."

Maria reached out and tapped the mute button. She blew out a long breath. "Fuck."

Natasha said nothing. She couldn't open her mouth. Her gut was twisting. War criminal? Steve was looking around the room in shock. "I didn't--what the hell?" He raked a hand through his hair, looking helplessly back at Natasha. "I didn't think they'd do this."

"None of us did," Tony said. He stood and pulled out his phone. "I have to call Pepper. You," he pointed at Natasha, "aren't going to do a damn thing until I get back. No leaving, no turning yourself in." He stalked out of the room without another word, nearly bowling Steve over in his haste.

"We suspected it would reach this point," Banner pointed out, but his voice was gentle. "We'll deal with it."

We? Natasha didn't know what to say. There was a large divide between acknowledging that she had a team who would fight with her on missions and understanding that they'd have her back outside of missions too. Thanking them seemed wrong somehow, like she'd be admitting that she hadn't believed they'd stick around. That maybe she still didn't.

Maria was suddenly beside her. She grabbed Natasha by the shoulders, squeezing, a comforting pressure. It was difficult to look her in the eyes, but Natasha forced herself. "Remember what I said," Maria told her. "We're a team. We fight together. SHIELD or no SHIELD." The words were nowhere near as intimate as they'd been the first time they'd had that conversation, but the sentiment was the same. I care, Maria was projecting, we care.

Natasha raised her hands and settled them over Maria's. A million things bubbled up inside her, thoughts and feelings and desires, but for all the languages she knew, Natasha couldn't find a single word to express them.

***

Thor's arrival was without fanfare, anti-climatic in the face of everything that had happened. JARVIS reported his arrival on the rooftop to Tony. By the time he came bounding down the stairs, everyone had gathered again in the war room. Natasha looked at the faces of her companions and saw how worn they all were. Only a few hours had passed since the latest slew of bad news and only a few days on the whole, but it felt more like they were at war and months had passed. Natasha knew her own eyes were bagged, her skin wan. None of them had showered or eaten a proper meal. It was field conditions to a tee.

"Forgive me my lateness," Thor said in greeting. He stooped slightly as he passed through the doorway. His voice was subdued. "I sought counsel with Asgard's great historians. They are," he paused, searching for words, "not known for their quickness."

"It's good to see you," Steve said, standing. He held out his hand to Thor, who used it to pull Steve in and wrapping him in a loose one armed hug.

"And you, shield brother!" He released Steve and turned to Natasha. "You're at the center of all this trouble," he said to her. "I apologize for making you wait."

She shook her head. "I'm just glad to have the band together again." Thor frowned but didn't address the expression. He reached into the satchel strapped to his back and pulled out a large heavy-looking scroll fastened with several strips of leather. 

"When Jane spoke of these new invaders, the description struck me as familiar. I could not say why, but Asgard's historians are wise beyond the likes of me. They keep the records of all worlds. The invaders are the Sketh, a technologically inferior race. Their true power is in their ability to manipulate energy."

"If they're technologically inferior, how'd they get here?" Tony sounded skeptical. He was once again seated at the folding table, a Stark tablet in front of him displaying columns of data. Banner was reading over his shoulder. He continued, "And what do they want?"

"You are correct," Thor said. "They should not have been aware of Earth. I believe, as does my father, that there has been some kind of interference. He suspected the Chitauri."

Banner inhaled sharply. "Loki?"

Thor shook his head. "My brother is secured in a prison beneath Asgard. Not even Loki could escape there."

"So an unknown," Steve guessed. He moved to stand next to Natasha, leaning against the wall nearest the desk. He crossed his arms over his chest, a frown tugging at his lips. "Sounds a hell of a lot like revenge, though."

"But against me?" Natasha asked. "I didn't do any more than anyone else against Loki--"

"As I said, I don't believe my brother has anything to do with this," Thor cut her off. "This," he waved the scroll, "is the cause of the Skreth's attack. They've come in search of something most valuable. However they got their information, there is no mistaking their purpose." He handed the scroll to Natasha and watched her untie and unravel it.

The scroll was beautiful. There was writing on it, a language that reminded Natasha of hieroglyphics. The parchment felt far too tough to be any kind of paper and fell to her feet when she finally unwound it all the way. The strange writing curved around an image in the center, one that, when Natasha finally got a god look at it, stole the breath from her lungs.

"That's you," Steve said. He sounded as thrown as she felt. He moved closer, as though expecting the image to change. "It looks... well, it definitely looks like you."

"But she is not," Thor said, "Lady Natasha. That is the Skreth deity, their creator goddess. They call her Mother."

Natasha turned the scroll for Maria, Tony, and Banner to see. They all seemed stumped. "It does look like you," Maria agreed, "but honestly, she looks like a generic pretty redhead. She could be anyone."

Mother. Natasha stared down at the image, unable to deny it was a close likeness. The woman was colored like Natasha, though her hair was feather-like, the same as the Skreth warriors she'd killed. Red feathers tumbled down the woman's naked body, covering her like a cloak. Her hands held bolts of lightning like she was wielding weapons. Natasha's gaze followed the delicate features of Mother's face, the curve of her body. She looked like Natasha. But most importantly, she wasn't Natasha.

"There's been a mistake," she said. She handed the scroll back to Thor. "This is ridiculous. This can't be the reason. There has to be a mistake."

"Indeed there has," he said, winding the parchment back up again. "One that was intentional. Whoever fed the Skreth this misinformation was hoping to use you, though I know not to what ends."

"Wait, wait, wait." Banner sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "There have to be millions of redheaded women on the planet. Why Natasha? And why would they come looking on Earth for this goddess in the first place?"

"It has to be some kind of trap," Thor said. "The Skreth are not an advanced people. But they are a desperate one. Several centuries ago, a great calamity befell their planet. According to the historians, the Mother's main temple was destroyed, and in the years following, disease spread. A large portion of their population died out, and their elders believed it was because their goddess left them. Now," he gestured to the room at large, sweeping his arms outward, "they believe it is because Earth stole her from them."

"We're being attacked by a cult," Maria paraphrased, her voice flat. "An alien cult."

"It is not so simple a matter," Thor argued. "The Skreth are a peaceful people. They were driven to this by a larger force."

"A larger force which we know nothing about," Banner said. "That concerns me. You said the Skreth are powerful but... simple. Whoever the other player is, they aren't afraid of the Skreth's power, and they aren't afraid of us. This seems like a good way to get two obstacles out of the way."

"Us and the Skreth," Steve said. "It makes sense..." 

"And where are our friendly neighborhood invaders anyway?" Tony brandished his tablet at Thor. "They attack us and then vanish seconds after getting a good look at their so-called Mother? Where's the sense in that?" 

"I cannot say for certain," Thor began, "but you said they saw Lady Natasha? Fighting with you?" When Tony nodded, Thor continued: "I can only assume they believe their Mother to have abandoned them for Earth."

"So you think they left?" Steve asked. He seemed hopeful. 

"Not at all. I think they're regrouping, perhaps consulting whoever sent them here to begin with." Thor finished tying the scroll up again and put it down on the folding table. 

"That's it," Natasha said, an idea striking her. "We have to get there first."

"Get where first?" Maria asked. She sounded wary, but she hadn't left her chair next to Tony and Banner. 

"Can you contact them?" Natasha asked Thor. "The Skreth. If you can reach them before they reach the other guys, we can negotiate. Reason this out. If they realize they're not going to find their deity here, they'd leave. You said they're peaceful."

Thor nodded, looking thoughtful. "Indeed they are... I believe I can reach them through our Gatekeeper, Heimdall. I could arrange a meeting with them. If we convince them to agree to a truce, we should be able to this meaningless war before it truly begins."

Hope flared in Natasha, a rekindled flame. If they could stop the Skreth, maybe they could stop the rest of it. Maybe, just maybe, she could slide through this without sacrificing the life she'd built. Her gaze turned to Maria unconsciously before she snapped her attention back to Thor. "Arrange it," she said. "I'll meet with them myself."

Thor nodded, but Steve and Maria took exception to her plan, both of them jumping in to argue. "Not alone," Steve said, just as Maria barked, "Not without backup, you won't!"

Silence fell. Natasha clenched her jaw. There was no chain of command here. Natasha didn't have to clear her orders with anyone. She was the only one who could handle this, the one with the best potential for getting out of it alive, however small that chance was. But before her anger could bubble up any further, Thor cut in: "Of course she won't," he said. "I will be there with her to act as a mediator. The Skreth cannot openly attack a prince of Asgard without risking a war they could never hope to win. They are unaware of Midgard's alliance with us. I shall make them aware." He grabbed the scroll off the table and secured it in the satchel again. "I will go now. The faster we meet with them, the sooner we can deal with the treachery of your rulers." He nodded at them each in turn before sweeping out of the room.

"Man, that's a load off my back!" Tony relaxed back into his seat. He turned the tablet off.

"How is this a good thing?" Maria demanded. "We're under attack, Natasha's their target, and there's some unknown force trying set up the apocalypse down here! How, exactly, is that relaxing, Stark?"

"One problem at a time," Tony said. "Look, the big guy sounded pretty sure of himself. Natasha goes with him, they play meet and greet, sorry I'm not a goddess, the aliens go home. We win!"

"And then we can prove it had nothing to do with Natasha," Steve chimed in. "I'm not happy about putting everything on you, Natasha. You don't deserve that, no matter how good you are. But if you can pull this off, if the Skreth are really just being manipulated, then we stand a good chance of fixing this mess."

Natasha thought calling the situation a 'mess' was a hell of an understatement, but she agreed with Steve and Tony. "This is our best chance," she said, looking at Maria. "This is our only chance. And I'm taking it."

Maria closed her eyes and nodded. "You're right. It is. It just--" She sighed and rubbed at her temples. "I wonder how long it'll take him. I don't think I can stand waiting around for a week."

Natasha couldn't begin to guess. She imagined whatever complex communication system Thor's Gatekeeper used wasn't something a human mind could fathom. Natasha settled on a shrug. "It doesn't matter. Waiting is all we can do." They had a plan. That alone made Natasha feel lighter. She had set objectives, a mission to complete with a fixed ending. Do or die, just the was she preferred it.

"Still, he could be back any time. You should rest," Maria said. She stood. "We all should. God only knows what's going to happen now." She looked at Natasha then, but her eyes held a suggestion that had nothing to do with rest. Natasha considered the future. She could do the math: none of this looked good for her. Even if the Skreth are as pliant as Thor suggested, the government wasn't so easily swayed. If she chose to go on the run, dragging Maria with her wasn't an option. Natasha refused to steal Maria's life from her.

With that in mind, nodding at the door and following Maria out of the war room was the easiest decision she'd made all day.

The third floor break room had been their refuge in alternating shifts. The chair and table Natasha had used were pushed against the wall, replaced by a couch Maria had found somewhere else on the floor and dragged in. She closed the door behind them and found herself shoved against the wood, Maria's face buried in her neck. Neither of them said anything for a long moment, and Natasha could feel her heartbeat speeding up as Maria's breath fanned moist heat against the crook of her neck.

"I'm sorry," Maria said. "I shouldn't have questioned you. I know how capable you are, more than anyone. I just." She stopped.

"You just?" Natasha echoed before she could stop herself. She was frightened of what Maria would say, of the love that threatened to burst through with every affectionate glance, every soft touch. 

"I just hate the idea of watching you leave," Maria answered. She pulled back and met Natasha's gaze. "I hate that I know you'd die before you failed a mission, and I hate that I know that's exactly how you think of this entire clusterfuck, that it's just a mission. That it's okay that your life was reduced to this because you're an asset before you're a person."

Natasha's throat felt like it was closing up. She couldn't breathe for the tightness in her chest. "I can't ignore the mission," she finally forced out. The words were uncertain and raw, torn from the very core of her. Maria could never understand: the Red Room had carved out her soul and replaced it with the mission. No amount of shifts in ideology could change that.

"And you shouldn't," Maria agreed. "But that doesn't mean you should ignore you."

Stop talking. Stop looking like that. Natasha felt herself split at the same, torn between severing the part of Maria that had so successfully wormed its way inside her, or pulling her closer. Her hands dug into Maria's shirt, dragging her closer and kissing her.

Their teeth clacked together, and Maria's fingernails dug painfully into Natasha's shoulder. There was nothing comforting about the kiss; it was too raw, too desperate, the two of them clawing at each other like animals. Natasha's thoughts ran through her mind a thousand miles per hour, flitting through every conversation they'd ever had, every time they'd fucked, every look Maria had ever given her that had stirred something within her heart. Natasha wanted Maria, knew she did, and was terrified for it. 

"When you come back," Maria said, pulling back to speak before kissing into Natasha's mouth again, "come find me, don't disappear--" Natasha heard the desire for a promise, could feel Maria's fear that she wouldn't ever see her again in every touch, in the vibration of her voice. 

She couldn't give it to her, couldn't even speak the words just to appease Maria. Natasha couldn't stand the idea of teasing Maria with a happiness she wasn't sure she'd be capable of even if she survived. "If I come back," she corrected, winding one of her hands into Maria's hair, tugging the bun loose. If, if, if. The stronger an image she had of happiness, the more a life with Maria felt like a reality, the less Natasha could imagine her survival. It was as if the simple act of hope had triggered something in her, a self destruct button left from years and years ago.

They broke apart, breathing heavily. Natasha leaned forward and pressed her forehead to Maria's, closing her eyes. If she could only stay like that, Natasha believed she could be at peace. If this moment could last a little longer.

"Everything's going to be fine," Maria said. The words lacked her usual conviction, the certainty with which Maria Hill did everything. She sounded more vulnerable than Natasha had ever heard her. 

"It's not," Natasha said. Lying was one of her strongest talents, but here, in this moment, she couldn't bring herself to do it. "Nothing will be the same, Maria. Even if I saved the world single handed, I'm still the Black Widow. I'm not Captain America. I don't get to pass go, I don't get to collect two hundred dollars. I go straight to jail every time. This is reality." She wouldn't turn away from it, no matter how painful it was.

"It doesn't matter what the law says," Maria argued. Her hands slid from Natasha's shoulder to her hands, their fingers laced together. "I'm with you, Nat. If you want me to be."

Natasha could say no. She realized it then, as Maria dropped her eyes to their joined hands. She could tell Maria no. She could stop this before they started, sever the connection before it became too strong. It would hurt, and they'd both carry a scar from it, but would it be so bad? 

"I don't know," Natasha found herself saying. She squeezed Maria's hands. "I don't know what to do."

"Good enough." Maria actually smiled, like indecision was somehow the best thing Natasha could have said. "We'll--we'll work on it. Together."

Natasha felt worn, all her energy completely sapped. She felt ashamed of how emotional she was being, as though she was under inspection and found lacking. She broke away from Maria and dropped onto the couch on her back. "I'm exhausted," she said, holding out one of her hands. "We should rest."

Maria made a soft surprised sound. But she didn't say no. She settled down on top of Natasha, the two of them squished together on a narrow, too hard sofa. The moment was over, but the spell wasn't broken. Natasha could feel Maria thinking, the rapid fire beating of her head against her own chest. She wrapped her arms around Maria and shifted them both onto their sides, Maria pressed between Natasha and back of the sofa. They hadn't bathed in days, hadn't changed clothes. Natasha could smell herself, ripe and sweaty, like she was fresh off a job. She remembered hammering out a deal with Clint, you stay over there and keep your stench to yourself and I'll do the same. She found it impossible to care now. Maria was different, she allowed herself to think. Special. God help her, Natasha believed she could love Maria. 

It was a damn shame, really. For Natasha, love had never been in the cards.

***

The meeting was to be held on Earth in a neutral location, but when Thor came for Natasha, he took her first to Asgard. She was still reeling from the trip through the bifrost when Thor led her across the bridge and through palace, though she kept her face blank and her body loose. Inside, her stomach was turning, and her brain felt scattered. She was careful as they crossed the bridge to not lose her foot. As dizzy as she was, Natasha feared she might walk off the bridge and to her untimely demise.

"There is a method to this kind of politicking," Thor explained, unaware of her discomfort. "My brother was an expert, but in his absence, my mother will aid you. She instructed him in statecraft. I've no doubt she will give you sound advice."

"Why do I need to see your mother?" Thor's mother, Natasha though, would be a queen. The queen, actually. That she'd not showered or changed for several days was suddenly at the forefront of her mind. 

"You will approach the Skreth as an ally of Asgard. For this, you must wear ceremonial attire." He paused, glancing sideways at her. "I thought as well you might make use of our baths."

Great. Even Thor thought she was ripe. "Thanks," she said. Bathing sounded fantastic. She could practically feel a film of grime coating her from hair to toes. She must have gone soft in her days of freedom; missions had in the past necessitated long periods of time without any kind of personal hygiene. Cleanliness was a perk, not a privilege.

Thor opened a large oak door and led her through a richly furnished room. A large bed sat in the center of it, draped with deep red and purple silks. Just beyond it was another doorway. Thor gestured to it: "These are my personal baths," he said. "Use them without worry of interruption. Mother will come to you when you're ready."

As he turned to leave, Natasha caught his arm. "Thank you," she said. He didn't speak in return, only nodded and left her in peace. 

Things might have been different in Asgard; maybe favors between comrades were given without expectations. But Natasha was from a world that kept a list of every last deed. To owe another was to be under their power. Natasha couldn't imagine Thor calling her on it and taking advantage of her in any way, but if she didn't make note of it, her inaction would haunt her, an itch beneath her skin that would never fade. Thor was a good man, but he'd saved her with his intervention. Maybe saved the world. Casually dismissing it would be a disservice to him.

The bath was every bit as luxurious as the bedroom. It was easily the size of Natasha's hotel room, a third of it taken by a bath that was more of a pool than a tub. Steam rose from the water, looking more inviting than anything Natasha had seen in days. She shucked her clothes at top speed and slid into the tub with a groan. God, but the water felt good. Amazing, really. It was a pity she had to save the world; she could lounge in that bath all day.

The reminder of the task at hand sent her mod into a nosedive. She washed herself mechanically, using the thick, waxy bar of soap resting on a gold plate on the rim of the bath and ignoring the oils surrounding it. They all smelled faintly floral. She had a difficult time imagining Thor using them.

When she was done, she wrapped herself in the robe hanging on the back of the door. This was clearly Thor's: it was a deep red, the same as the bedding, and the sheer amount of fabric drowned her figure. She tied the cloth around her as best she could and opened the door.

The queen was waiting.

She was sat on the edge of Thor's bed, a soft smile on her face. She was beautiful in a way Natasha couldn't describe, like a goddess from Greek mythology. Which, she supposed, wasn't too far off the mark.

"Lady Natasha," the queen said, inclining her head. "My name is Frigga. I've been expecting you."

Natasha wrapped the robe tighter around her body, feeling foolish and childlike. "Have you."

"The Skreth have made a grave mistake," Frigga said. She motioned for Natasha to take a seat and did not seem offended when Natasha declined. "There is a greater force at work here, and you've become a pawn, Lady Natasha. For that, you have my sincerest apologies."

"It isn't your fault," Natasha said firmly. She felt compelled to comfort the woman and didn't understand why. There was something about Frigga, something that drew Natasha in and made her want to rest her head on the woman's thigh, to tell her of her troubles and be absolved of her sins. Remaining on her feet was the only thing keeping her from humiliating herself. 

"Asgard has a responsibility toward Midgard. We have thus far failed you in every way." Frigga didn't need to clarify. Sorrow for Loki was written in every line of her face, the creases around her eyes. Natasha imagined the queen was an ageless beauty before her son rebelled, but now she looked every inch the grieving mother.

"We don't know who or what is tricking the Skreth. Do you?" If she did, that would certainly make Natasha's life easier.

"Oh, my dear," Frigga said. She shook her head. "What we know is not much at all; they're only pieces of the puzzle. But I expect you'll have the answers soon enough." Before Natasha could ask her what she meant, Frigga continued: "But enough idle chatter! You must prepare. I've brought you clothing. Dress and then we will speak."

Time passed quickly with Frigga. She helped Natasha into a formal Asgardian gown and jewels. The gown was a forest green color and made of a heavy velvet fabric. It fell all the way to the floor, barely exposing Natasha's toes, and wrapped up and around her torso, her upper arms, and her neck. Gold rings stacked from her wrists up half of her lower arms and her shoulders, chest, and calves were plated with gold armor. Brown leather straps were wrapped around her ankles and feet like sandals, so thin she could feel every detail of the ground against the bottoms of her feet as though she were barefoot. 

"I feel like a doll," she told Frigga, sizing herself up in a mirror.

Frigga smiled, her face visible in the mirror just above Natasha's shoulder. "You and I both know the benefit of that." She wasn't wrong.

They spoke at length of negotiation, of the traditional Asgardian standards. Who speaks first, what can be said - Frigga left no detail out. Her words wove into Natasha's memory like a song, impossible to forget. It felt like magic, the sort that made Natasha wary. Loki learned his sorcery from somewhere. She could see where.

When Thor returned for her, it felt like days had passed. "Good luck," was the last thing Frigga said, the words echoing down the hall as Natasha and Thor made their way back through the palace to the bifrost.

"You look good," Thor said, nodding his approval. "If you were taller, I'd believe you were Asgardian."

"Is that all it takes? 'Be six foot and have abs of steel?'"

Thor chuckled. "Among other things," he joked. "A strong tolerance for liquor is somewhere near top of the list."

"So Steve's a shoe in," Natasha said. They'd reached the bridge, the bifrost looming in the distance. She wasn't looking forward to the trip; just remembering the first time turned her stomach. 

Heimdall stood in the center of the dome. He spared them a glance and a nod but otherwise did not speak. Natasha tried to imagine his life, all seeing and constantly aware, but it sounded like a nightmare. 

"We'll go directly to the meeting place," Thor explained, wrapping one thick arm around her shoulders. "It is in a place I have never heard of, a New Jersey?" He pronounced the name carefully. "Are you familiar with it?"

"Jersey?" Natasha repeated. "Yeah, I've been through there." Why in the hell did he pick Jersey of all places? When Natasha thought neutral location, she thought of somewhere unpopulated and undeveloped. The Yukon. Antarctica. Clearly she was missing something.

Blue light flashed and suddenly Natasha was being hurled through space and time. She kept her eyes clenched shut against the vibrant lights of the bifrost. When her feet hit solid ground and she finally opened her eyes, strange dark shapes swam in her vision. She held still for a moment, not wanting to move until she could be absolutely certain her knees wouldn't give out.

Thor laughed and slapped her back. "It will get easier! Volstaag, my brother in arms, vomited when first he traveled through the bifrost, and he is one of Asgard's mightiest!" The second time felt worse than the first. When Natasha felt stable enough, she took a few steps. Back to normal. 

The area they'd landed in some sort of warehouse district. The sky was dark, a sliver of moon high overhead, and the streetlights lining the road flickered. "Any idea where they'll be?" The sooner they got under some kind of cover, the better. The back of Natasha's neck itched like they were being watched, and standing in the middle of the road as they were, she wouldn't be surprised if someone really did have eyes on them.

"Heimdall put us down in front of the building," Thor said. He pointed to the warehouse in front of him. "There, that is where they should be."

The building was completely dark. It was in disarray, too, had clearly been out of use for several years. The front of it was covered in graffiti, and the shuttered metal doors were bent. Someone had been coming in and out frequently. Thor led the way, peeling the doors back without pause or consideration for subtlety. Natasha followed after him, quick to get out of plain sight. The itch on the back of her neck never let up, and by the time Thor had led them through the large open building and to a small office area in the back, Natasha knew with complete certainty that someone was watching and something was going to go wrong. She glanced at Thor, but he didn't seem disturbed. If anything, he seemed deep in thought. At the end of the hall, light poured out from the crack beneath a door.

"There," Thor said, though he didn't have to bother. Natasha knew it was the Skreth and steeled herself for battle.

"Don't look aggressive," Thor said to her, his voice barely a whisper. "Appeasing them is our best chance."

She knew it. Hell, she'd dressed the part, hadn't she? The Black Widow had spent years charming dictators and politicians and terrorists; this was not out of her league.

Thor approached first. He walked to the door and wrapped his knuckles against it three times in quick succession before giving a brief pause and then opening it. Natasha remained a few paces behind him, as they'd planned. She heard him speak to the Skreth in their language, a strange and lyrical tongue that reminded her of Latin, before he called her name and summoned her inside.

When she walked into the room, all four of the Skreth inside jumped to their feet and began speaking at once. She wondered what they thought. Up close, had she disappointed them? Surely they didn't still think her their Mother goddess. She tried to remember exactly how the image on Thor's scroll had looked but couldn't think of anything beyond the mane of fiery red feathers that fell across Mother's body. Had they expected that? Her own hair was chopped to just at her jawline, falling in waves after air drying. She wore no makeup and knew her face was pale, more so than usual. Makeup was useful on missions; done right, and no one would ever know if she flushed, if she paled. She felt more naked now without it than she would have if she'd gone into the meeting nude. 

Thor held out his hands, speaking quickly. He appeared to be placating them. They must have figured it out already. He went back and forth with them, the words flying so fast between them it was like watching an auctioneer. Natasha shifted in the doorway, feeling her lack of weapons with a keen displeasure. If they attacked now, she'd only have hand to hand combat to rely on, and considering the way their last battle went, those weren't odds she'd like to bet on. She'd have to disarm one of them like before, get his weapon and dispatch the others with it. None of them were visibly carrying any weapons, but she knew they were there. 

"Have a seat," Thor said to her, finally turning from the Skreth. The four of them had settled and returned to their own seats, but they were watching Natasha closely, their dark, pupil-less eyes giving nothing away. "They wished you to know they meant you no offense," Thor said. "And I will speak as directly as I can from them. They say you look beautiful."

Natasha smiled them and imagined blood. They smile back. "Who are they?"

"They are delegates," Thor said. "You would consider them politicians here. Lower level ones, perhaps. I can't imagine the Skreth would send anyone to meet us who they couldn't afford to lose."

Interesting. "So they have a developed political system? They can't be too simple a race."

Thor shook his head. "Don't mistake simple for stupid. They lack advanced technology and have little experience dealing with races outside their own. The Skreth lead insular lives."

Not simple so much as naive, then. That could work. "What should I say to them?"

"I'll deliver the words, but the gist is that you are not their deity and that someone had lied to them." Thor turned to the Skreth and began to speak. Natasha waited for an explosion, for shouting or screaming or some threat of violence, yet the Skreth did none of those things. The representatives sat silently, listening to each and every word that came out of Thor's mouth as though it were the gospel. When he finished speaking, the four of them huddled together, muttering so neither Natasha nor Thor could hear them. Natasha gave Thor a look, but he paid her no attention, his eyes trained on the Skreth.

When they spoke, Natasha watched Thor break into a smile, his posture relaxing. The Skreth who seemed to be in charge of speaking was sat in the middle, across from Natasha. They glanced at her occasionally as they spoke but their gaze never lingered. Their feathered hair was the same shade of black as their companions, but it was much shorter and styled into something resembling a mohawk. When they finished speaking, they reached down for something. Natasha tensed and saw Thor's hand fall to his hammer, but the Skreth merely pulled out a small box wrapped in a yellowing paper. They handed it to Natasha.

"Take it," Thor told her. "They say it is a gift for your trouble. They cannot truly apologize for what they have done, but they wish to work with us to defeat whoever is attempting to manipulate both the Skreth and Midgard."

Natasha took the package but hesitated in opening it. "This was too easy," she murmured, recalling the feel of eyes on her as they walked through the warehouse. It hadn't been a comfortable feeling, nor a friendly one. "Are you sure?" 

"It's part of the process," Thor said. "And the Skreth, they're peace loving. They wouldn't have gone out of their way to attack us if they hadn't believed they had a good reason."

"If their reason was so good, why are they giving up now?"

"Because they see they were mistaken," Thor said. "They recognize you are not their deity. Without that, they have no claim on Midgard."

So that's how it worked? Kill a bunch of people, ruin lives, hand over a little box, and all is forgiven? Like hell. But Natasha knew politics. She knew how to make nice and how to choose her battles. The shitty little box wasn't the kind of battle she needed to fight. She peeled the paper away to reveal a fine wooden box roughly the size of her palm. It had intricate designs carved into every visible inch of its surface, and Natasha swore she could feel it humming against her hand. Every instinct in her was screaming not to open it, but Thor and the Skreth were watching her expectantly. The future of the world depended on her opening the goddamn box. So she opened it.

At first, nothing happened. Inside the box was a small green stone that glowed dimly. Was it a jewel of some kind? Perhaps they expected her to wear it. She reached out to pick it up, and heard Thor snap, "Wait, don't touch it," right as her fingertips made contact.

Light exploded from the stone and engulfed her, and the room spun wildly out of control. Natasha felt like her hand was on fire as a white hot sensation began spreading up her arm and across her entire body. She couldn't keep her eyes open for the light.

She heard Thor's voice again, the words lost in the roar that washed over her, but that, too, soon faded. The room spun out of sight. The light went dim. Natasha opened her eyes and got a glimpse of a tall domed ceiling that glowed like burning coals, but her lids were too heavy. She faded out of consciousness, the stone falling out of her slack grip and onto the floor.

***

Natasha was alone. It was the first thing she noted when she woke up; there was not a single living creature detectable in the domed structure she found herself in. The silence was unnerving. When she got off the floor and climbed to her feet, she did so with as much noise as possible, taking comfort in the resounding echoes. Her hand felt numb and her body sluggish, still reeling from the sheer overwhelming power of the stone. She was amazed she'd lived through it. Steve once told her about watching Schmidt die after grabbing the tesseract barehanded, how he was ripped out of space and time seemed to dissolve into nothing. She'd expected death.

Reality, however, saw fit to put her in some kind of a shrine or temple. When her eyes refocused well enough to see the murals on the walls, the pieces fell into place: a beautiful woman, feathered red hair... It had been a trap. "Fuck," she muttered. She knew it had been to easy. With any luck, Thor managed to escape and was regrouping. Not that they'd found her considering it looked like she was in the goddamn hinterlands of space.

She was still in dressed in the ceremonial gown and gold. The thick fabric was restraining and prevented her from moving quickly, so Natasha tore the dress to her mid-thigh. The sandals were useless as shoes, but she left them on. The leather cord could come in handy later. The gold bangles were thick enough that they could guard her arms. The armor itself she left in place. It was durable and light and didn't impede movement. She needed all the defenses she could find. A weapon, next, then. If she could get one of the Skreth alone, she could kill them and steal whatever weapons they had on them. It wouldn't be enough to bring down an entire planet full of hostiles, but it was a start.

Her fist clenched as if in remembrance of the weight of the stone as its power burned through her. Somehow, the stone itself was responsible for bringing her to the Skreths' home world. If she found it again, could she use it to take herself home? The thought struck her suddenly, and she nearly dismissed the idea altogether as impossible. But maybe an impossible solution was what she needed for an impossible situation.

Find weapons, she decided, then find the stone. From there, she'd have to wing it.

The shrine was enormous. The interior was roughly the same size as the entire warehouse she and Thor had met the Skreth in, but it was an open space. There didn't appear to be any rooms branching off it, and the only visible exits were the black double doors on the opposite end and the windowless skylight at the dead center of the ceiling. The mural which stretched the entire interior wall length from one side of the double doors to the other appeared to be the main attraction; Mother featured in every part of it, showcasing as a benevolent deity tending to her people, as a warmongering she-devil robe in flames destroying enemies, and all the things in between. They were a monotheistic society, it seemed, and religion must have been central to their everyday life. A tall golden altar was a few feet behind Natasha, standing directly opposite the doors. Bowls rested on top of it, filled with what looked like different oils. Natasha leaned close, sniffing. She didn't recognize any of the scents.

The shrine wouldn't help her. She could only assume they'd left her there because they still her to be their Mother goddess. She approached the doors and tested the handles; they were unlocked. Natasha breathed a sigh of relief. If she'd been trapped in there...

But no, she wasn't, and there was no sense in dwelling in possibilities when there was so much for her to do.

"Brace yourself," she whispered - then she pushed open the doors.

Two guards stood at either side of the shrine's exits. When Natasha opened the door, she spotted them, calculated her chances, and then immediately disregarded the idea of killing them as they both dropped into low bows, their knees hitting the ground. They spoke, but it was nothing she could understand. 

It hadn't really clicked what it might mean, the Skreth viewing her as their goddess. Natasha had focused on her own details, of how to escape and what it would take. She had not for a single moment considered that escaping would be as easy as walking out the door.

She took a step out of the shrine. Then another. Then another. The guards remained kneeling on the ground. They didn't move, didn't look up at her. They were both holding scepters like one she'd killed the Skreth warriors with. Natasha reached out, refusing to hesitate, and wrenched it out of the left side guard's hand. No reaction.

"Nicely done, boys," she said to them. "Keep up the good work." They didn't look up at her, but they began speaking again in excited chatters.

That was too easy, Natasha thought. Just like before. Too easy, and then the trap. But this time, her guard was up. She was armed. Let them come.

The shrine was located in a city. The architecture was like nothing she'd ever seen before outside of sci-fi movies. The buildings appeared to be mostly made of sandstone, yet had a sleek and modern look to them. Colorful fabrics were draped across windows and doorways instead of woods or glass. Doors didn't seem popular outside of the shrine itself.

Natasha walked through the street in broad daylight, and the Skreth watched her with wide, wondering eyes. They wanted her there, she realized. They wanted her to walk among them. They were happy to see her.

How bizarre.

Their reactions were a far cry from what Natasha was used to on Earth. She was gawked at, treated with a mixture of fear and pity. Reverence was new and unnerving, and Natasha fought to keep her eyes ahead of her, to remain vigilant. The Skreth had tricked her before by catching her off her guard. She wouldn't allow them to fool her again, no matter how clever the ruse.

But the trouble, the real trouble, was the fact that she couldn't communicate with the Skreth. If their reactions were genuine, she had no doubt they'd tell her anything she wanted to know, do anything she wanted them to do. But the language barrier was one she couldn't overcome. No matter how many Earth languages she knew, the Skreth tongue was beyond her. She wasn't trained for aliens.

She walked for at least an hour. When she finally stopped, it was at the foot of an official-looking building. This one stood taller than the rest, reaching up through the clouds like a big city skyscraper. She stood at the foot of it and watched the Skreth go in and out of it, some of them dressed in garb similar to the representatives she and Thor met with. The building appeared to be some kind of government building. She couldn't be certain, of course, and never would be without questioning one of the Skreth, but it was the best she could do at the moment: an educated guess.

Natasha climbed the stairs and entered the building, sweeping the bold green cloth hanging in the doorway to one side and glancing around. The first floor was bustling with activity. It looked more like a market than a government building, stalls lining the walls and piled high with various items, the stall keepers passing things out to individuals who held what looked like emerald coins in their hands. When she let the cloth drop behind her and stepped fully through the doorway, the noise in the rooms faded into a low hum. Heads turned toward her. Natasha kept walking until she was at the center of the floor. The Skreth stepped away from her, backing themselves toward the stalls and forming a wide circle around her. Natasha looked around at everyone in the room and saw nothing but joy at the sight of her.

"Can any of you understand me?" she asked, taking a chance and expecting nothing of it. No reaction. She switched track and tried Russian, French, Japanese, going down the list of every language she knew. Still no reaction.

In a world full of people, Natasha was unable to speak to a single one of them. 

She spit a curse and looked around until she saw another door; this one led to stairs. The Skreth didn't question her. They simply divided, creating a path to the stairs and taking care not to touch her, not even by accident. She couldn't help but wonder where the violence had gone. The warriors who attacked Earth were vicious, cutting down an civilian who crossed their paths. These people, however, seemed timid. They watched her as though she might disappear at any moment, as though she was too good to be true. She wished she could tell them she really was.

***

Exploring was a waste. Natasha went through every floor in the building, examined rooms, tore through anything that looked like it could be hiding the stone. The weapon she'd gotten off the shrine guard was still in her hand, useless. It might have been a walking stick for all the good it did her. 

She trailed up the stairs, long since having forgotten the number of the floor she was on. At the top of this flight, however, was a door. An actual door. Natasha stopped in front of it, unable to help her surprise. She pushed it open and stepped out onto the roof. Not ten paces in front of her stood a man who clearly did not belong.

He was alien to her, not of Earth and certainly not of Skreth. He was short and squat, with three eyes in a semi-circle across his wide gray forehead. When he saw her, he let out a squeak and what sounded like a hissed, "Damn!?"

That was English. Natasha let the door fall shut behind her as she stalked toward the man, her scepter at the ready. "You look lost," she said to him. She caught sight of a small package in his hands, familiar in its yellowed paper wrapping and size. "Need some help?"

The man swallowed, his eyes following her every movement. "No," he said, his voice squeaky. He took a step back, then looked over his shoulder at the rapidly approaching edge. "No help needed!" He clutched the package tight to his chest.

"What do you have there?" she asked.

"Nothing important!"

"Come on," Natasha said, a vicious laugh in her voice, "you wouldn't lie to a god, would you?"

The man swallowed. All three of his eyes dilated with fear. Natasha watched his breathing pick up and his hands begin to tremble and thought, bingo.

"Want to tell me where you plan to take that?" she nodded at the box. "Because I think I could use something like that."

The man shuffled back further. "I don't know what you think this is," he began, but Natasha cut him off with a hiss.

"Don't lie to me," she demanded. "You and I are the only living things here that don't belong. Convince me you have nothing to do with this and I might let you live."

He looked to the sky, his eyes wide with fear, and looked frantically back and forth. He was expecting someone. A ride, perhaps? Whatever the gem was, it was valuable enough that the guy was choosing to hold onto it rather than trying to convince her to let him live. "Okay," she said. "Let's try this another way." She leveled her scepter at his throat. "Who sent you here?" She pressed the sharp tip against his gray skin and watched him gurgle. 

"The--dark lord!" The man cried out in a hurry. "The dark lord Thanos! He will see to it that you pay for this! I am his servant, and--"

"And that?" She nodded at the package. "What's that going to do? What's this Thanos want it for?"

But the man only shook his head. He began muttering under his breath, switching between English and another unfamiliar language in his fright. She caught something about 'said too much' but everything else was too quiet. 

Natasha figured that was the best she was going to get out of him. She pulled the scepter away from his throat, let him heave a sigh of relief, then spun the scepter around and slammed the blunt end of it against his temple. He crumpled to the ground without even a whimper, the package slipping from his grasp. Natasha grabbed it and gave him a nudge with her foot. No movement, no sound. She could tell he was still breathing, but he was well and truly down for the count.

Leaving the man where he fell, Natasha left the roof, closing the door behind her before sitting in the stairwell and unwrapping the small package. Under the paper, the box was the same as before. She recognized the intricate designs and the familiar hum of power through the wood. When she opened the lid, the green stone was there, glowing. 

If she touched it, would the outcome be the same? She couldn't help but wonder if the stone would take her back to Earth or somewhere else. Or would it kill her? Maybe the first trip had been pure luck. Maybe the Skreth had interfered. If only she could speak to them, she'd be able to find out to properly use it, but she knew her time was short. Whoever the man was who she'd left unconscious on the roof, he'd been expecting someone. And whoever the dark lord Thanos was, she couldn't say she was eager to meet him.

The stone continued glowing, resting in the box with a deceitful innocence. Time was running out. 

"If I die," Natasha told herself, "it won't be so bad. I probably would have died here anyway." Trapped and alone on a planet of people who could neither speak with her nor bring themselves to touch her. It was complete isolation among the crowd. Natasha thought of Maria, of the things she'd promised her, of what she wanted them to have together. She thought of Steve and Clint, her brothers and friends. Clint would be furious when he found out what happened. She could imagine what he'd say, something like 'screw your promise, I'd never let you deal with that alone,' but that precisely why she promised to give him space. Because he couldn't go saving Natasha when he needed to save himself.

Outside, wind roared. Natasha recognized the sound; it was an aircraft breaking through the atmosphere. A large one. Presumably Thanos'. She looked down at the stone and closed her eyes. 

"Take me home," she said and gathered it into her hand.

***

Natasha woke up.

Her entire body ached liked she'd put it through ten hours of training without pause. She was hungry and tired. Worst of all, she was back in New Jersey.

The floor of the warehouse was filthy. She pulled herself up and shook dirt and debris from her hair and clothes. The stone was resting on the ground beside her, its glow dimmed. She refused to touch it again and ripped a long strip off her already shortened dress. Wrapping the stone and taking great care not to touch it, she then found an old grocery bag that the wind must have blown in. She put the wrapped up stone there, tied it snugly, and hid it in the gathered chest of her gown. 

"This isn't home," she said. She supposed she was speaking to the stone. "I don't have an exact address, but you could have at least put me down in DC. Or, hell, New York." Somewhere she had actual allies.

But that was neither here nor there. The stone was unlikely to respond to her whining - she'd have chucked the thing into the ocean if it had - and throwing a fit in an abandoned warehouse wasn't going to get her back to the Avengers. With any luck, they were all still in DC. Where else would they have gone? She wasn't on Earth. She wasn't anywhere they could find. Would Thor have managed eventually with the help of his gatekeeper? It was possible, she allowed. But waiting for a rescue was never her style.

The stone had apparently seen fit to drag the scepter back with her, so Natasha gathered it and walked out of the warehouse. She needed a phone. There were still payphones around, but they were notoriously unreliable. Most of them were broken or so badly vandalized they couldn't function. She couldn't tell what time it was beyond that it was night, but the moon was high overhead. It couldn't be much after midnight, she decided. 

Luck struck in the form of a twenty four hour diner. Natasha went inside and walked straight to the counter. The woman behind it stared at her.

Natasha shrugged. "There's a sci-fi convention in town," she said.

"Gotcha," the woman said with a nod. "Like Star Wars and stuff? You Princess Leia?"

Natasha gave her a twirl. "I'm so flattered you could tell," she said. "Mind if I use your phone? My boyfriend ditched me." 

The woman tutted and gave Natasha a commiserating look. "Asshole," she declared. "Sure thing, hun." She picked up the landline, a cordless old phone that looked banged up and aged, and handed it to her. Natasha took it to the far corner of the restaurant and leaned her scepter against the wall before sliding into the booth, her back to the wall and her eyes on everything. She dialed Maria before she could think to do otherwise.

The line rang several times before Maria picked up. At first, there was silence. Then, "Who is this?" Maria's voice was harsh.

"Sorry for calling so late," Natasha said. She heard Maria's sharp intake of breath and continued. "My boyfriend ditched me in Jersey. Think you can give me a ride?"

Maria swallowed loudly on the other end of the line. "Goddamnit, Natasha," she said. "We were about to start a war!"

"Is that a no?"

Maria laughed, the sound strangled by a sob. "I'm never letting you and Thor go anywhere unsupervised again." She swallowed again. "Thank you for coming back." Natasha knew she didn't mean 'from space'.

"I think I'm going to hang around a while," Natasha said. "I hear Stark Industries has great insurance." Maria laughed. Natasha could hear voices clamoring on the other end of the line, Thor's booming voice and Steve's repeated demands to speak to her. They would have come for her. They would have fought for her. Natasha remembered the fear she felt on Skreth, alone and certain that her friends were out of reach. She never wanted to feel that way again. She never wanted them to feel that way. 

There were threats still on the horizon. The stone was with her, and Thanos had gone through the trouble of pitting the Skreth against them once. She was certain he'd come looking for it, would want to finish the job.

This time, the playing ground would be even. The Avengers would be waiting.


End file.
